Valley of the Shadow
by FyreBrande
Summary: Sometimes, it's in the dark valleys of life that you find the light of a kindred spirit. With a shared love of poetry. And a great ass. My contribution to the 2014 Mass Effect Big Bang.


_Run_.

It was the most pressing thought in her head. _Run, run, __**run**_. Followed by a jumble of, _Breathe... Where's my gun? Keep __**moving**__, Williams... Oh, God, I really don't wanna die here..._

A shot winged off her shields, the force of it making her stumble.

_"Even though I walk though the valley of the shadow of death..."_

She used the forward momentum she'd built up to hit the dirt, twisting to land on her back as her fingers curled around the grip of her pistol.

_"...I shall fear no evil..."_

She was snapping off shots before she'd even stopped skidding along the rocky ground. A smirk of satisfaction curled her lips as the two drones exploded in a shower of sparks and fragmented metal.

_Take that, you damn metal bastards..._ The gloating thought trailed off as she noticed where some of the scattered pieces had landed.

Right by the feet of a geth. It turned from watching its cohort impale a colonist on one of the big-ass spikes their invasion had brought with it, and the glowing light she supposed was its eyes focused exclusively on her.

Oh, _damn_. She levered herself off the ground, darting for cover behind a huge boulder nearby and trading her pistol for the assault rifle at her back as she tried-and failed-to catch her breath. Her head rolled back against the boulder for a fraction of a second. _Okay, God, help would be nice right about now... But since that's as likely as hell freezing over, I'll take care of it._ Her grip tightened on the rifle. No way in hell she was letting a couple of synthetics be the death of her. Not now, not _ever_.

A ball of biotic energy ripped through the air in tandem with a hollered, "On your left!"

She barely glanced at the two men as she brought her rifle to bear and joined in the unflinching eradication of the approaching geth. She hadn't fought alongside many biotics before, and watching one of the geth lift a foot or so off the ground before the man with the commander's stripe drilled a round into its flashlight-head was impressive.

She lit up the other synthetic, filling with grim satisfaction as it jerked with each round's impact and collapsed in a lifeless heap.

Then and only then did she allow herself to look at her _extremely _providential backup and offer a salute. "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212. Thanks for the assist, sir. You the one in charge here?"

**.o.O.o.**

He felt a grin tug one corner of his mouth at her choice of words. _Assist, she says. I __**like**__ you, Williams._ "Sure looks that way," he confirmed. "Commander Quinn Shepard of the _Normandy_. You wounded, Williams?"

"Just minor scrapes and burns," she brushed him off, pacing restlessly. "The others weren't so lucky."

**.o.O.o.**

She wasn't going to dwell on it, she_ wasn't_. Not on Eddison's increasingly frantic attempts to call for backup, not on the way Torvig's head snapped back when a sniper got him between the eyes, not-

She stopped herself when she realized she had been spilling a breathless explanation to Shepard and his squadmate. _I shouldn't have let them go so easily. I should have fought harder to keep us alive._

_ "Do not go gentle into that good night..."_ The poem danced though her head; an easy way of self-recrimation.

"This _isn't_ your fault, Williams," Shepard's voice cut through her mentally berating herself on the failure. "You couldn't have done anything to save them."

She knew that. She did. It was still hard, being the last man standing.

**.o.O.o.**

He could see the fire in her eyes, the determination, and he liked it. Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was a driven woman and a good soldier. Exactly the kind of person he needed on his squad.

"Fall in, Williams. We need you to take up to that beacon."

Her eyes spoke even more fiercely of payback than her words as she complied.

**.o.O.o.**

It felt almost par for the course when things went so far sideways the world may have actually tilted a little.

Saving the colony felt like damn small potatoes when almost every colonist was dead, the beacon was destroyed, and she got Shepard knocked senseless due to her over-developed curiosity.

It wasn't until the man opened his eyes, sat up on the med-bay cot, and assured her to her face that he was fine and it wasn't her fault that she forgave herself. Sort of.

**.o.O.o.**

There was an odd sense of camaraderie to be found in being jointly ignored, Quinn mused. He could _feel_ Alenko's disbelief and Williams' frustration as they strode away from the council with the curt dismissal ringing in their ears.

"How can they just blow us off like that? Did they even _listen_?" Williams seethed under her breath, the very picture of a soldier who watched friends die for nothing.

"They're just playing it safe with the reputation of one of their top agents," Alenko pointed out, sounding like he only half believed the words himself. "We need to get some proof to make them listen."

"We'll get some," Quinn promised. He knew what he'd seen. And while he understood the council's reluctance to act on unsubstantiated claims, Saren's attitude toward humans made him even less tolerant of delays than usual. _Damn red tape..._

So find proof they did. Proof, and a few more allies. He could tell Williams at least was skeptical about how much they should _trust _these new allies, but right now, he'd honestly take help wherever he could find it.

**.o.O.o.**

Shepard's proof wasn't just enough to prod the Council into _doing something_ about Saren, it earned him humanity's first spot in the Spectres as well. Ashley was well aware she was witnessing history, even though the Commander was a big enough person the sense of pride and _I told you so_ any normal person would be feeling didn't show. Unless the gleam of accomplishment in his eyes counted, but she didn't think that was anything more than acknowledging what an honor he'd just received.

**.o.O.o.**

_Not bad for a kid from the colonies,_ Quinn thought to himself, biting back a smirk as he offered Anderson one last salute and headed for the rapid transit terminal, Williams and the quarian girl, Tali, following close behind. He wondered briefly what his parents and Mika would have said about the son and brother who lacked the discipline to hand in schoolwork on time being made a Council Spectre. Zane would have slugged him in the arm and called him a loser, but grinned in a way that made it clear he was proud of his younger-by-five-minutes brother. He hadn't thought about them in a very long time, Quinn mused.

"Commander?" Williams' verbal nudge sent his ghosts scattering and he blinked as his brother's smirk faded into the chrome gleam of a skycar's door opening. "Head in the clouds, sir?" the marine asked, the barest hint of teasing in her voice.

"Can you blame me?" he replied with a shrug and a grin, leading the way into the cab.

**.o.O.o.**

No, she couldn't. She also couldn't blame him for the infinitesimal flash of annoyance that flickered through his eyes when some reporter ambushed him as they reached C-Sec, hoping for an expose. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he dropped into at-ease posture as the reporter asked him increasingly slanted questions.

Ashley found her already-high respect for her new CO increase significantly as Shepard handled Ms. Al-Jilani's needling-and sometimes downright accusatory-tone with a quiet, unruffled confidence. He knew she was trying to talk him into a corner, and he was having none of that. Even-maybe especially-when asked point blank if humanity would ever receive the respect they _deserved_ from the rest of the galaxy.

A small smile tugged his lips. "Respect is a funny thing. People always assume they deserve it. The truth is, respect is _earned_, not handed out like candy at Halloween. And I firmly believe we can earn it."

Al-Jilani brushed off his view as idealism, but Ashley agreed with him. Granted, they might have to work twice as hard for half the payoff, but humanity had a track record of beating long odds. They could do it. Especially with people like him in the limelight.

After a couple more-unsuccessful-attempts to dig up if he was really chasing a rogue Spectre agent, the reporter closed down her camera and waved them away.

"Nice job there, skipper," Ashley complimented playfully as they rode the elevator up to the docking bay.

"Thanks, Chief," he nodded, that small smile still tugging his lips. "She reminded me of a kid in my unit back in Basic who thought he deserved the respect of everyone breathing because he was a biotic. A couple D.I.'s unburdened him of that misconception real quick."

"Serves him right," she muttered. Just because human biotics were rare didn't mean they deserved to have things handed to them. A sentiment Shepard-fortunately-appeared to share.

They fell silent after that, the low chatter of the piped-in music and news the only sound until the door hissed open on the docking bay.

**.o.O.o.**

To say he was surprised to hear Anderson was stepping down and the Normandy was _his_ would have been a gross understatement. As would be calling it annoying when Udina felt compelled to reminded him he'd been a _human_ far longer than he's been a Spectre.

"Of course, sir," Quinn acceded. "I owe the Alliance too much to ever forget."

With one more comment about hoping the new Spectre remembered to minimize political fallout, the ambassador left. Quinn turned to Anderson.

"With all due respect, sir, this doesn't feel right," he commented frankly.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Commander," Anderson replied. "But as a Spectre, you can't be answerable to anyone but the Council. And the Normandy will serve you well. It makes sense."

"Hanging you out to dry _doesn't_," Quinn protested.

"You aren't doing that," the captain assured him. "Good luck, Commander." He extended his hand.

Quinn shook it. "Thank you, sir."

"Off with you now, son," Anderson admonished, a gleam in his eyes. "Make us proud."

"I will, sir." He'd never been more serious about a promise.

**.o.O.o.**

The galaxy was a difficult place when you had trouble trusting half of the people who were supposed to help you save it. But Ashley couldn't squelch the sense of unease at the fact a krogan mercenary, a quarian, and a turian had unrestricted access to _the_ most advance ship in the Alliance Navy. Well, Tali didn't bother her so much as... the other two, for many reasons. Quarians hadn't been at war with humanity, for one. And she and Tali had accompanied Shepard on some of his 'rabbit trail' missions, so she knew she could trust her. Vakarian and Wrex, however, she had no such assurance, and it still made her uncomfortable that they had such free run of the ship.

Shepard listened-really _listened_-when she voiced her concerns, but remained determined to trust their allies.

"Don't think I'd count on the Council _staying_ allies, Commander. Their own species are always going to come first," she pointed out.

"Damn pessimistic view of the universe you got there, Williams," Shepard chuckled, clearly enjoying the good-natured debate.

"A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist. Sir," she countered, but by the end of their conversation, she was convinced that while Shepard _was_ an optimist through and through-she had no idea how, with his past-he wasn't stupid. He had his reasons for trusting the aliens, and that was good enough for him.

And the more the two of them talked, the more she found herself trusting _him_. Didn't stop her from nearly dying of embarrassment when he caught her listening to Sarah's vidmail.

**.o.O.o.**

"Your sister, I assume," Quinn laughed, enjoying the sight of Gunnery Chief Williams _flustered_ a tad more than maybe he should have.

"Until I get home and kill her," Williams confirmed. "That's Sarah, the youngest." There was a note of quiet pride under her embarrassment. Quinn followed the subtle hint of her tone, and it didn't take much prodding to get her talking about her family. He'd known they were close-her skepticism about Liara not talking to her mother spoke to the fact the marine's own clan was tight-knit-but the love and loyalty and damn _pride_ oozing from her words made him smile.

"Must be nice to be so close," he commented.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed with an easy smile. "What about you, Commander? You have family?"

"Not anymore, no," he shook his head, absently cracking his knuckles as he elaborated, "Had parents, a brother, a sister. But the batarians-"

"Ah, damn, I forgot about Mindoir," Williams groaned. "Sorry, skipper."

"It's alright, Williams, you're hardly the first. Just keep talking about _your_ family. What about your father, you don't mention him much. Was he on tour?"

When her affirmative answer involved one of his favorite poems, it was all he could do to keep his lower jaw from scraping the deck. He didn't know whether to be elated at finding a kindred spirit or curse up a-mental-blue streak at the regs against fraternization. One thing was for sure, that night saw the first of many cold showers when he couldn't shake thoughts of a certain Gunnery Chief.

**.o.O.o.**

Their casual conversations quickly became more and more common, until it became standard procedure for the other crew members to check the cargo bay _first_ if their commander was needed for anything. Sometimes, if boredom managed to set in, Quinn would convince Alenko to join them, and the three of them would swap stories and play cards. Williams was always trying to talk them out of playing poker.

"He cheats," she explained, with a grin and a nod at Quinn.

"I do not!" he protested.

"Well, then, you're entirely too good for us mortals, and Kaidan shouldn't have to suffer through defeat like I did."

"And you think you have a better shot with Skyllian Five?"

"Skipper, I would have a better damn shot with blackjack," she shot back. "Anything's better than poker."

"So, am I just here to chaperone you kids, or what?" Alenko joked, running his thumb over the edges of his cards and grinning as the two of them gave embarrassed coughs.

"...Let's just play," Quinn suggested.

"Good idea," Williams concurred

He was so flustered by Alenko's teasing jibe he actually _lost_ the first hand, which brought a crap-ton of ribbing from both his fellow soldiers.

Quinn retaliated by kicking their asses the next five hands in a row.

**.o.O.o.**

The first time she bumped into Shepard on his way-and _her_ way-to work out, Ashley's gut reaction was a thoroughly unprofessional, _**Damn**__, I didn't realize biotics were so __**cut**_, which-fortunately-stayed in her head. Military life didn't lend itself to carrying extra weight, and she knew biotics burned far more calories than the average grunt, but still...

Maybe it was all the nights spent discussing poetry and swapping stories about their families-usually her, but Shepard did _occasionally_ share-that made her start seeing him as a man she couldn't deny being attracted to.

Or maybe it was just the cut of his grey tank top that accentuated the muscle definition in his shoulders and biceps.

Either way, she was staring.

"Heading for a workout?" Shepard asked, either not noticing or being kind enough to ignore the way she was ogling him.

"Work- um, yeah," Ashley nodded, hastily gathering her thoughts.

He grinned, white teeth against dark skin. "You want to spar?"

She matched his grin. "I'll kick your ass, Skipper."

Shepard actually laughed. "I believe you. Bring it on."

So she did. It was a good workout, and they both enjoyed it.

"I... have an idea," Shepard panted, grinning like a fool as he accepted her offered hand up.

"Oh?" Ashley raised an eyebrow at him as she reached for her water. "Lay it on me."

His grin widened. "How much poetry do you have memorized?"

**.o.O.o.**

He'd been worried she'd think it was a stupid idea. Apparently, he had been wrong.

"You really are crazy, Commander," Williams informed him with a lazy grin. "But brilliant all the same. Who d'you want to start with?"

"Let's go easy on ourselves to start. Dickinson?"

She side-eyed him. "We use her, four poems to a match."

Quinn nodded. "Deal."

"Well, then..." Williams moved to a ready position and smirked at him. "Ready when you are. _Sir_."

It definitely added a layer of difficulty to have to remember the next lines of poems while also avoiding getting knocked on his ass again. But it was fun, too.

**.o.O.o.**

Virmire changed everything in the space of a single god-awful heartbeat.

The simple, hard, truth of the matter was he _needed_ Williams. If he pulled all emotion out of the equation, managed to ignore that it meant leaving a friend to die either way, he couldn't make any other choice.

From a tactical view, he needed her because soldiers could take more punishment in combat than biotics, and she stood between him and danger everywhere they went.

From a personal view, he needed her because she was, well, _her_.

It was hard to convince himself that the former, not the latter, was the impetus for his decision. "Williams, radio Joker and tell him to meet us at the AA tower."

**.o.O.o.**

_Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil..._ Ashley ran the words through her head as she and the salarians struggled to hold their ground until Shepard arrived.

She still couldn't believe he'd chosen her over Alenko, maybe never would. But to deny her relief when he arrived would have been a lie.

His brief but dramatic confrontation with Saren convinced her the turian was deluded, and also cost enough time she half expected they wouldn't get the distance needed to escape the blast radius.

She hauled Shepard to his feet, wincing as her injuries from the firefight complained at the stress.

The commander nodded his thanks as they headed for the Normandy. "Go, go, go!" he hollered, making sure all the surviving salarians were aboard before activating his comm unit. "Get us the hell outta here, Joker, _**NOW!**_"

**.o.O.o.**

Shepard's face was a blank mask as he stared out the window at the planet behind them, watching the explosion's flare fade away.

"'Ours is not to reason why...'" he whispered as he turned away.

Ashley joined him for the second half. "'...Ours is but to do and die...' Skipper, don't-"

"Later, Chief," he muttered, working his way out of his armor in preparation for the post-mission briefing.

**.o.O.o.**

Sparring promised a measure of release words simply couldn't.

"It should have been me."

Quinn shook his head. "Say that as many times as you like, Williams, I am going to disagree with you just as emphatically every time."

"He was the superior officer." She opened with a jab, far clumsier than usual, and he dodged easily.

"But _you're_ the one who accompanies me the most," Quinn countered, sweeping her legs with a well-aimed kick. "I need you more than I needed him."

She rolled, regaining her feet and countering his next punch. "So he _is_ dead because of me!"

Quinn growled in frustration, deflecting a right cross that probably would have broken his jaw if it had connected. He couldn't blame her for being angry. "Dammit, no! This was _my_ mission, _my_ call, _my_ goddamn _**fault**_, Williams. I already told you, I don't need you turning martyr." He swung at her and missed, momentum carrying him into the wall. Rather than immediately return to the match, he stood there, pounding one fist against the metal until his knuckles bled. "My call..." he whispered. "_Damn_ Saren."

Her hand on his shoulder made him flinch. "Skipper," she began quietly. "You said it yourself in the briefing: It's _Saren_'s fault. Much as we both want to blame ourselves, it's not your fault. It's not my fault. It's _his_. So lets nail that turian bastard. For Kaidan."

Quinn nodded. "Sounds like a plan, Ash."

Her fingers flexed slightly against his shoulder and he wondered briefly if that had been too familiar. "I guess first stop should be the medbay, though. So Doctor Chakwas can take care of your hand..." She hesitated. "Quinn."

He offered a sheepish smile, glancing at his bloody knuckles. "Good idea, Chief. And then we nail the turian bastard."

"Now _that's_ a plan, Skipper."

**.o.O.o.**

It really came as no surprise-to her at least-when the Council not only refused to acknowledge the Reaper threat, but locked down the Normandy so Quinn couldn't do anything "rash". _I __**really hate**__ politicians_.

Quinn took it understandably hard. "I _thought_ they'd _**listen**_," he muttered, jamming his gear back in his locker and sliding to a seated position on the floor. "That they would _see_."

"You're an _optimist_, skipper," Ashley reminded him, leaning against the bulkhead nearby. "Times like this are the reason I'm glad I'm _not_."

"I don't care _who_ I have to go to," he growled, slamming his hand against the floor, biotics warping slightly. "I can't just sit around and wait for the Reapers to start killing everyone!"

"Well, whatever you come up with, count me in." She straightened, rubbing the back of her neck as she met his eyes. "Look, Skip-_Quinn_, I know I haven't exactly made it easy to get to know me-"

"You kidding? You're an open book, Ash," he cut her off, teasing glint in his eyes.

"Jerk," she glared, smiling all the same, and lightly kicked his ankle. "As I was _saying_, I... I want you to be happy. Whatever you need, I'll help." She sighed. "And boom goes my feminine mystique."

"Don't worry, it can be our secret," Quinn winked. "I... want you to be happy, too."

"Good to know, skipper," she ribbed, offering him a hand up.

**.o.O.o.**

He didn't know why he kept underestimating her strength. The number of times Ash had hauled his ass off the ground, he should remember by now she didn't need any help.

But apparently he didn't, which resulted in them pressing entirely too close together, her breath tickling his cheek.

Deciding he had to be reading her downright flirty grin correctly, Quinn leaned in to kiss her-

And was interrupted by Joker's announcement of a message from Captain Anderson.

Ashley looked just as pissed as he felt, but both agreed the captain's message was too important to wait.

**.o.O.o.**

Anderson's plan to get them off the Citadel was risky for him and plain old nerve-wracking for them.

Quinn had seemed less than thrilled at the risk his mentor had to take, but he couldn't come up with an alternative, and he knew it.

So they sat on the Normandy, waiting with bated breath for Joker's console to come to life. The _second_ it did, Quinn gave the order, and they were off.

Off to the Mu Relay.

Off to Ilos.

Off to save the galaxy.

**.o.O.o.**

The journey to Ilos was long enough for Ashley to gather her courage, decide 'screw the regs', and march herself up to Shepard's cabin. _Enough beating around the bush, Williams. Tell the man how you feel._

His door wasn't locked. She took a deep breath, wondered one more time what she was going to _say_, and tapped the controls, biting her lip as the door hissed open. "Skipper?"

"Technically, you don't have to call me that anymore," Quinn commented, pushing back from his desk. "We're mutineers. Traitors." He picked at one sleeve. "Probably shouldn't even be wearing the uniform..."

"Hey, it had to be done," she shrugged. "And you'll _always_ be Skipper to me. 'O Captain, my Captain'."

An eyebrow raised as he smirked at some inside joke. "First it was Tennyson, now Whitman... You always let dead guys do your talking?"

"What can I say? Dad loved all those sappy poets." Ashley sighed, growing serious. "I'm not a word person, Quinn. Other people say what I mean better than I do. But, I mean, look at us. We're mutineers, on a stolen warship, headed straight for the most hostile system in the galaxy." She chuckled. "Just call us humanity's best."

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I keep telling myself it was the right choice. Still don't believe me yet." He glanced toward his desk, at the picture of two teenaged boys being pulled into an impromptu group hug by a girl who looked about ten.

"Believe me, then," Ashley said. "You're doing the right thing. 'Death closes all, but something ere the end, some work of noble note, may yet be done. Not unbecoming men that strove with gods'. We'll get home again, skipper. I believe- I _know_ you'll lead us through. 'O Captain, _my_ Captain'."

He grinned playfully at her. "So... my _rank_ is what you see when you look at me?"

"Nah. I see a strong, passionate, _good_ man. With a great ass. You ready to deal with the fallout of all the regs we're breaking?" She stepped closer, stopping just out of arm's reach. "I've spent my whole life fighting for what I want. Never, not once the whole time, did I feel like I was worth what I was fighting for." The point she wanted to make crystallized in her head. "You make me feel good enough."

Quinn smiled. "And you give me something better to fight for than ghosts or memories."

She laughed. "We make a fine pair..."

"That we do. C'mere."

_Let's see how bad you want it, tough guy._ Ashley smirked coyly and shook her head. "Nope. I think _you_ need to come _here_."

He rolled his eyes, chuckling at her. "Shut up and get over here."

She stepped back instead. "Make me."

With a sound torn between a growl and a laugh, Quinn did exactly that.

Before too long, clothing littered the floor, skin pressed against skin, and neither of them got much sleep that night.

**.o.O.o.**

If their night together was heaven, catching up to Saren the next day was hell. Heart pounding, adrenaline-laced _hell_. And that was before Sovereign cheated and reanimated the turian's corpse to fight them again.

"Get behind me!" Ashley was already shoving him back, placing herself between her squadmates and the monstrosity crouching on the atrium floor. The moved as one, spinning and dodging, hammering the... _thing_ that used to be Saren with everything they had.

Quinn finally managed to catch it with a singularity, and as it flailed and struggled against the pull, Tali fried its shield and Ashley lit it the _hell_ up.

Riddled with enough bullets to choke an elcor, the corpse hung limp and dead-again-even before the singularity collapsed and dropped it to the ground. They barely had time to trade shaky, exhilarated grins before a thunderous explosion rang out as Sovereign disintegrated.

"Get down-!" Quinn hollered, shoving Ash and Tali further away from the window as the first debris smashed through.

**.o.O.o.**

The sky was falling.

_Even though I walk..._

_ Do not go gentle..._

By the time the dust settled and the world stopped shaking, the two women were well and truly _stuck_. Mostly unharmed-she could feel bruises forming under her armor-but trapped under a cage of debris.

And Quinn didn't answer when she called his name. Every damn minute of the seems-like-a-lifetime it took for C-Sec to find them and dig them out. "_**Shepard!?**_"

He never answered.

_'Death closes all...'_

_ No! He's not dead. He __**isn't**__._

It was as Captain Anderson helped her out that Ashley realized her armor's med interface had dulled her to a sprained ankle, and she found herself leaning heavily on him for support.

"Where's the commander? Where's Shepard?"

She just shook her head. _I don't __**know**__._

Anderson was lowering her to sit on a large piece of debris when they heard the footsteps. Shuffling, limping, but hurrying all the same.

The dying embers of hope in her heart flared back to life. _I knew it, I knew it, __**I knew it**_.

Ashley smirked as Shepard appeared over a shuttle-sized piece of debris. _That's my Skipper._

**.o.O.o.**

"So, how about here?" He tapped the back of a bench, watched as Ashley eyed the buckled seat and the debris-strewn view it afforded them.

"Well," she sighed, clumsily shuffling forward. "I guess we aren't going to find better, huh?"

"Probably not." Quinn eased himself down, careful not to jar his broken ribs.

Ashley sat with far less caution, tucking her crutches under the bench and turning sideways to use him as a backrest so she could rest her sprained ankle on the bench. "What good is shore leave if they won't let us _actually_ leave?"

He kissed the top of her head and worked his fingers in between her, careful not to snag splinted fingers. "Well, we can do things like this."

"What, stare at rubble? You have a weird idea of fun, Skipper."

"No, silly goose. _Relax_. Sit and do nothing. 'There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word'."

"Ooh, Whitman. Good choice."

He chuckled, winced at the pain. "Glad to know you approve."

Ashley laughed, half-turning to shoot him an impish smirk. "What's the saying? If mama ain't happy, nobody's happy?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "What're you saying, Williams? You wanna raise my children now?"

She rolled her eyes and slugged his shoulder, looking properly chagrined when he hissed in pain. "Hell, Skipper, slow down. I make it a point not to have children with a man until I know his full name and he can tell me mine."

"Ashley Madeline Williams, born April 14th, 2158," Quinn shot back with a grin.

"Very good. You do realize this means you never have an excuse for missing my birthday, right?"

"That's assuming I ever forget," he smirked.

"You've already apparently forgotten that you owe me your middle name."

He grimaced as he told her, and not from pain. "Walter."

Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Mom and Dad got _just_ drunk enough to think letting a poker game determine my middle name was a good idea." He smirked. "At least Dad didn't win. Then it would've been Alfred."

"As in Tennyson? They would've done that to you? Damn." Ashley laughed and leaned back against his shoulder. "_If_ we ever have kids, no naming them when we're drunk."

"Deal," Quinn agreed.

**.o.O.o.**

Ashley snuggled closer against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth bleeding through her tshirt. "And if I were to start calling you Walt..."

He poked her in the ribs. "I wouldn't advise that, _Maddie_."

"Point taken," she laughed, squeezing his hand. "I'm glad I've got you, Skipper."

He kissed her temple. "Likewise, Chief."

It was, Ashley reflected, a good end to an incredibly demanding mission. They'd gone to hell and back, traveled through that valley of the shadow of death, but came through stronger.

More importantly, they came through _together_.


End file.
